Fight It
by Sydonia
Summary: Draco/Harry slash, if you don't like it , don't read it... some depression and cutting involved. Please read it, it would mean a lot to me if you review. Chapter 3 up! sorry i suck at summaries
1. Chapter 1

This has slash! So far, the pairings stand as thus - Draco/Harry. ron/Seamus. Hermione/Dean. Neville/Parvati. 

Involves depression and self mutilation I.E. cutting 

If you review mine I'll review yours! 

I don't think I'll give you an idea of the plot quite yet...I don't want to give anything away (or maybe I'm not sure yet, pick your favorite) 

Discalimers: I don't own these characters...blahblah...and I don't own any of the Beatles' music (rest in peace John Lennon and George Harrison...oh yes and Dave Thomas, Kurt Cobain, Dr. Bronner and the old lady on the Old Navy commercials)   


"Morning, gorgeous," mumbled a sleepy Harry Potter as he rolled onto his side.   
"Yeah, what'd you expect?" murmured another voice, heavy with sleep and heat. The snobby voice had drifted form somewhere underneath silver-blond hair falling over the face of Draco Malfoy. His back was to Harry and he had his face burrowed into the pillow.   
"I swear, Draco, you get more stuck up everyday," Harry chuckled as he stretched his arms while still laying down A faint moan escaped from his lips as he scrunched up his face. His body was always sore in the morning.   
"And you get stupider every day, Harry."   
"Only from being with you. It rubs off, mate." Draco seemed to give up on the insults at first, but then Harry realized he had fallen asleep again. So he grabbed hold of the blanket and pulled hard. The comforter slid off Draco revealing a well built pale-skinned body in boxers with tomatoes on them. Harry had bought them for him last year on his birthday. The sleeping form reached back with a blind hand and snatched at the blanket. When Harry threw it off the bed, Draco slowly sat up and shook his head. A sheet of silver shook back and forth and glinted in the morning sunlight. Harry fake sighed as he dreamily watched the blond locks shining as they moved.   
"What's with you?"   
"Oh, just realizing how lucky I am to be with someone as concieted as you. At least you're always really hot." He gave Draco a lopsided grin but was knocked back on the bed as Draco pounced on him. "My beautiful little ferret," laughed Harry as he and Draco wrestled on the mattress. Draco managed to pin Harry by his shoulders and said through clenched teeth, "I'm gonna make you pay for that one, Potter." Then he smiled and pressed his lips to Harry's and kissed him so passionatly that Harry had to force him away when he needed a breath. His lips were bright red from the action. He gasped for a minute but then looked thoughtful. He added, "I don't think I mind this kind of punishment." He wrapped his arms around Draco and forced him to lay down. Bare chest pressed against bare chest as the boxer clad wizards kissed again, running their fingers through each other's sleep-tousled hair. 

* * * * * 

By the time they had put a momentary pause on their passion and decided they should eat something before anymore wild love, it was noon. They sat across from each other at the small dining table and silently munched their cereal. Harry read the back of the Lucky Charms box. He looked up at Draco, reading the Daily Prophet, disheveled hair hanging like a curtain in front of his face and his eyebrows furrowed as he read. Harry smiled at the slender firgure as he sat crosslegged in his tomato boxers looking so serious, but ever so cute.   
A small pop caused Harry to look down into his bowl. A red balloon marshmallow had popped, and there were little bubbles floating out of the bowl. Wizard Lucky Charms were so much more interesting that regular ones, beacuse they acutally were charms, not just marshmallows. He dragged over the page of comics Draco never read and crunched methodically as he read Garfield.   
When Harry finished eating, he was whistling as he dried his bowl and was putting it up in the cabinet when Draco started singing along to what Harry was whistling. "Love, love me do! You know I love you, I'll always be true, so pleeeaaasse...love me do,"   
"Whoooaaaa love me do! Love me do, you know I love you! I'll always be true, so pleeeaaaase....love me do."   
"Someone to love, somebody new!"   
"Someone to love, someone like you!" Harry had always loved the Beatles when he first heard Uncle Vernon watching a show about music. Of course, the short necked, red faced man had complained loudly about the length of their hair and glared nastily at Harry when he said it. But, Harry still sang the songs around the house so much that Draco knew almost every single word. Draco also knew how they were rumored to be dead when Abbey Road came out, and how one could supposedly hear John Lenon speaking to the devil if you played one of the albums backwards. Harry was devestated for months when George Harrison died. So, naturally, Draco joined in singing with Harry. They were in the middle of the chorus of "Love Me Do" when a soft knock came on the door to the kitchen. "Come in!" Harry yelled. In walked in an absurdly tall and thin red head covered with freckles and an arm around another man with brown hair and sparkling blue eyes, a short witch with curly brown hair and a black man with a wide, white grin.   
"Oh G-God hi! Wow, I didn't know you guys were coming today!"   
"Obviously," muttered Hermione, the brown haired witch, eyeing Harry and Draco in their boxers with the kitchen littered with marshmallows and milk.   
"Oh relax, Herms," said her husband, Dean. "Harry! So great to see you, mate. It's been a while, hasn't it." He stepped forward and gave Harry a big hug and clapped him on the back. Before letting him go, he whispered in his ear, "Oh, and Harry, the barn door is open." Harry blushed and buttoned the flap on his plaid boxers.   
"Yo, Harry! When are you two scoundrels gonna come visit me 'n Seamus?" The red head, Ron, stepped forward and plucked a marshmallow horseshoe from Harry's hair. He looked at it, then popped it into his mouth. He and Seamus had just recently gotten together, and Hermione and Dean had gotten married a few years ago.   
"Sorry, Weasel, we've been busy. We'll put on our to-do list." That was Draco, using his patented smirk and drawl combination on Ron. They had long since given up on being enemies for Harry's sake, but they still happily insulted each other any chance they had.   
"Good, my amazing-bouncing-ferret friend. I'm glad, I haven't seen you guys in ages."   
"Yeah, it's been too long. You guys remember the days at Hogwarts? The Hogsmeade weekends, with the Butterbeer and talking to Madam Rosmerta? What do you two say to joining us for pint with some old friends?" That was Seamus, his Irish accent as strong as ever. All of them got dreamy looks on their faces, remembering the cold, snowy days in the the Thrree Broomsticks. Without saying anything, Harry and Draco dissapeared into their room to get properly dressed.   
"If you guys take too long, I'm gonna come check on you! I'll close my eyes, don't worry!" Came Hermione's voice, dripping with sarcasm and floating into Harry and Draco's room as they dressed.   
"Ahh lay off Granger! We're almost out! Sheesh," yelled Daco, over his shoulder. He looked up when Harry came out of the bathroom, and pretended to gasp and clutch his heart. He staggered into the bed saying, "Wow, Harry! Amazing! Simply amazing! Wow, I don't think I can stand up, you are so God damn hot!" Harry looked at himself in the full-length mirror and grinned when he inspected his relfection. He had chosen to wear something, a bit, different than usual because he saw what the others were wearing. Everything clothing his friends was on the snug side. Harry was wearing tight leather pants and a clingy shirt that showed his thin but toned body, his hair was artfully crazy, and was sticking up as shiny gel held it gently but firmly in place. On most people, it would've looked like they rolled out of bed after sleeping with wet hair, but Harry's look was totally transformed...it made him look positively dangerous. He turned around like a model on a runway and looked seductively at Draco. "I do, do I? Well, well, well...you don't look half bad yourself, my friend."   
Draco nodded knowingly as he ran his fingers through straight blonde hair that fell to right below his ears and walked to Harry infront of the mirror, wearing leather pants as well, and a muscle shirt to go with it. He grabbed Harry's arm and the two walked into the living room. Ron's jaw dropped when he saw them, and Seamus waved his hand in front of Ron's face when he stared at Harry's shirt clinging to his chest. "Helllooo...Ron? Remember me? Seamus? I look good in leather pants too, you told me yourself!"   
"Oh, heh heh, sorry Seamus. Just a litte surprised. Didn't know you owned anything like that, Harry."   
"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Ron." Everyone in the room got cold shivers hearing the mystery in Harry's voice and seeing the odd grin on his face. But then he laughed and said, still chuckling, "Well, I'm ready! Let's go then!" His friends jumped then stood up at the same time. 

* * * * * 

The six old friends Apparated with a pop right out side of the Three Broomsticks. They were chatting happily when they stepped inside, and were met with silence. Everyone in the bar had looked up and were extremely surprised to see one of the Malfoy's with the old Gryffindor friends...and to see them all dressed like that. In a few seconds, the babble of talk broke out again, and Harry smiled to himself as he went to go sit down. 'Still popular,' he thought as he sat next to Draco in the booth. 

_What am I doing? No! I won't do it! You can't make me! Let me out! Please....no! Why should I do that! No, you can't make me! No..._

Ron returned from getting drinks. He slid a large mug of mulled mead across the table to Seamus, and then to the rest of the people at the table. "Cheers!" Everyone shouted and the air was soon filled with the clinking of many glasses. Drops of mead sloshed on the table and everyone drank deeply. Satisfied sighs leaked into the air one by one as the six swallowed and set the mugs down. Seamus was the last to put his mug down - half empty. He smacked his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Ron chuckled as Hermione stared and Dean laughed a deep, belly laugh. Draco was grinning with Harry and laughter exploded when Seamus let out a huge belch.   
They were sipping their mead in silence when Hermione broke the silence, saying, "Harry, there was something I wanted to ask you about today."   
"Yeah?" Harry unglued his eyes from the spot on the table he had been staring at thoughtfully.   
"Well, as you know, at Hogwarts, we've run through so many Defense Aganist the Dark Arts teachers ever since You-Know-Who surfaced in our first year...remember? Well, we need yet another one, and I know that you play Quidditch for England and everything, but I was wondering -" But Harry's mind knew what she was going to say, and was in a whirl. 

_Do I really have time?_

_Of course you do. Take the job, take the job, you can't be on the Quidditch team forever...take the job..._

_No, I don't think I can. I really don't have time. Even though she is my best friend, I don't think I can take it just now. Maybe some other time._

_TAKE IT._

"Sure, Hermione. I'll take the job. I'd be happy to." Hermione grinned and looked as though a huge amount of stress was lifted form her shoulders. But, she frowned when she saw the strained grin on Harry's face.   
"You know, Harry, if you're worried about getting involved with You-Know-Who like the other teachers, don't worry. Remember our seventh year? Well he hasn't been seen since then. But if you just don't have time -"   
"No, Herms, it's okay. I can do it." 

_Good_

* * * * * 

The six friends had gotten stone drunk, so they decided to go home and sleep it off. Luckily, Hary and Draco managed to apparate where they meant to, and not miles off course. Although Harry's mind was clouded with alcohol, he could just imagine what Hermione would do the next day, realizing she had gotten her first hangover. The headmistress of Hogwarts couldn't exactly go get drunk...it was fortunate for her that it was summer break.   
Harry collapsed onto his bed and let out a loud groan. "Uggghhhhh...I wanna sleep...hey! You...yeah you! You got a mirror in your pocket? Cause I see myself in your pants," mumbled Harry, his speech slurred and a crazy grin on his face.   
"Yeah you know it...but not now, man. I can' see straight...gotta sleep. Wouldn't want ta fall asleep on you, mate." Draco's speech was also lethargic and slow as he rolled into bed.   
"Riiight, Drake. I was just kiddin. I'm not up for that either...g' night..." With that he fell asleep, fully clothed and on top of the sheets. He might've been drunk, but he still had vivid nightmares as he slept. All night he tossed and turned, usually Draco was there to hold him and kiss away his tears, but not that night. Draco was close to being knocked out and didn't even notice when Harry repeatedly kicked him. 

_Please not Harry! Take me...take me...not Harry! No!_

_Silly girl, give me the boy and you don't have to watch him die...I'll kill you first. Resist, and I'll force you to kill him yourself._

_Hear that? Don't end up like her. Do you want to hear that everynight for the rest of your life? Do you? No? Then Do it! Don't resist..._

A throbbing headache behind his eyes woke Harry the next morning. He glanced over, and saw that Draco was still sleeping, his head buried into the pillow. Harry touched his own face, and felt the still wet tears on his cheeks. He was shaky from his dreams, and couldn't bear hearing the faint echoes of his dying mother in his ears. It wasl like his whole body was on a sadness overload, and had to be let out. He rubbed his temples in a futile attempt to feel better, but the hangover had magnified the nightmares...the screams.   
The black haired man stumbled to the bathroom, and looked at his face in the mirror. His hair, so stunning the night before, was tangled and looked like a dead rat on his head. Gray bags were layered under his eyes, and his bloodshot eyes still dripped from the nightmares. The veins stood out brightly on his pale, transparent skin and he was shaking with anger towards his mother's murderer.   
Somehow, someway, the depression had to be bled form his body. Harry didn't think he could stand it for any longer, it was like poison slowly draining away his life. He clumsily searched for a razor blade in his drawer, and found the one he used for shaving. It was an old fashioned straight edge. Perfect.__

_Do it. Do it or you'll be sad forever. Bleed out the poison..._

Slowly, deliberately, he drew the blade across his forearm. A perfectly straight line of blood blossomed from his elbow to the middle knuckle on the back of his hand. He didn't even worry about how he could keep it hidden as he watched the blood ooze from the fresh cut like so many crimson tears and run down the creamy skin of his arm. Harry had never purposely cut himself before, and was surprised that he hadn't thought of it yet. It was like draining out the fear from those awful nightmares. A combination of this and Draco's comforting arms could cure anything. Right? Of course.   
Harry came back to earth from the high of cutting himself, and washed the blood away under the faucet. He watched as the red liquid turn pink as it diluted under the crystal water. Sharp knives pricked at his arm, and the sting didn't go away for several minutes. He squeezed the flowing blood from it, then took his wand, pointed his it at his arm, and muttered, "Reparos." The skin drew together, leaving a thin, pale red scar where the cut once was. Harry was reminded strongly of the scar on his forehead. He fumbled around in the medicine cabinet until he found a bottle of sleeping potion. It said on the label that it could also be used to help headaches. Harry didn't bother to look at the dosage, but drank a large gulp and barely managed to stumble into bed on heavy legs before falling alsleep again.   



	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers: I don't own an of Harry and co., any of the Beatles and I thank Chico Marx for the use of his quote.   
You know what's wierd? We are playing this song in band, and the composer's name is "Percy Granger" Wierd, huh? Well, in short, please read and review, I'll repay you for the favor if you do! thakns a lot! ~Sydonia   
  
  


Slowly, Harry unpacked his briefcase into his desk. He put two pictures on his desk: one was of Hermione, Ron, Seamus, Dean, Draco and himself standing together smiling and laughing together. For a second, Harry wondered why Draco was in the picture, but then he remembered that Draco was the love of his life. At least, he had been for a few years, ever since they had realized thier juvenille hate for each other had blossomed into much more than that. The other was of his parents, smiling and waving at him from the simple frame.   
He had just sat down from putting away the contents of his breifcase when his class came bustling in. Hermione had full trust in Harry's ability to adjust immediately, so Harry was ready to teach the very first day. He was sitting quietly at his desk, hands folded as he watched the seventh years noisily finding seats. An odd grin spread across his face when the teenagers realized that he wasn't saying anything. Quickly, the class was deadly quiet, and all eyes were on the strange man with the dark hair and vibrant geen eyes sitting calmly at his desk. "That, my friends, could've cost you your lives," Harry said, when all the class was focused on him. "Those few minutes it took you to settle down and realize that there was someone else in the room...anyone could've done anything without you noticing. I could've killed you all. I could've kidnapped her," Harry gestured towards a scared looking girl in the front row. "You never would have known. Just thought I'd point that out. Now, " at this point, Harry stood up and walked in front of his desk, sat on it and crossed his legs, then continued, "let's see. What are we going to do today? Oh, yes. I remember now." But Harry was interrupted when a timid hand raised into the air.   
"Professor Potter? Er, is it true that you defeated the Dark Lord when you were only a year old?"   
"What's your name?"   
"Paloma Longbottom."   
"Your parents are Parvati and Neville Longbottom, right?"   
"Yes, sir."   
"Neville...we were good friends back when I came here. Did you know I went with your mother to the Yule Ball?" Paloma looked at his oddly and he merely smiled and said, "Yes, I know. But, I really wanted to go with someone else. Tell your folks I said hi next time you write them. Thanks in advance." 

* * * * * 

Even after a few days teaching at Hogwarts, Harry was almost everyone's favorite teacher. Of course, the Slytherins would hate him within an inch of their lives, but the Slytherin house had always had a grudge against Harry's old house: Grydffindor. Harry was still young, and the students felt like they could connect with him better than the fifty and sixty year old professors. The new Professor had only graduated six years ago, and was in his early twenties. He practiced with the Gryffindor Quidditch team when they were out on the field, and gave them advice from his own experience.   
No one noticed the very seldom times that Harry was depressed and withdrawn...the days he came to teach class pale and tired with deep grey bags under his eyes. They never asked him why his green eyes were less green then usual, and why small scars could be seen on his arms when he rolled up his sleeves. All that mattered was that he knew what it was to be a student...he had always hated homework on the holidays, so he didn't assign any. Kids came to him asking for help with their love lives...boys mostly, asking how to ask this or that girl to the dance.   
At night, instead of staying at school like the other professors, Harry returned home to sleep. One night, Harry returned home to a dark house. He dropped his cloak on the table when he Apparated into the kitchen, and proceeded to the living room. No one was there. As he bagan walking up the stairs, a searing pain tore through his head, and his scar was like fire on ice. He clutched his forehead and stumbled the rest of the way up the stairs. He heard harsh breathing in his bedroom and entered to find Draco sitting on the bed, facing the open window. Great shuddering breaths shook the pale man's body as he continued to stare into the setting sun. 

_Comfort him...he needs it._

Harry walked to the edge of the bed and sat next to Draco. He gathered his beloved to him in his arms and stroked his hair. Or, he would have had Draco not pulled away and stared at him like he was a monster. "Potter! What are you doing! Don't you dare touch me, you mudblood!" Harry saw a glimmer of the old Malfoy in the steely grey eyes as the blond jumped back from Harry's warm arms, shaking like a cornered animal. Harry opened his mouth to say something, completely and utterly shocked, but then a new look soread over Draco's face. He looked totally blissful. Harry's scar stopped throbbing. He smiled, and ran into Harry's arms again. After a minute or so, he looked into Harry's eyes and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Harry. I love you, you know that. I don't know what came over me. I suppose you just scared me. Old habits die hard." When Harry grinned after a few seconds' pondering, Draco planted his mouth right over Harry's smiling one.   
Draco pushed Harry up against the wall, and pinned his shoulders back. He fiercly kissed his boyfriend, and Harry kissed back with passion to equal. Lust was radiating from the two lovers as fingers entiwined in hair and stomach pressed against stomach. Somewhere along the way, Harry began sobbing, but Draco didn't notice and continued to caress Harry's lips with his tongue and clench his shirt in his fists.Without even stalling his passion, Draco slid Harry's shirt off, and ran his fingers over Harry's bare back. The light feathers stopped abruptly when they traced over a long, rippled scar cutting across Harry's shoulder. He pulled away and held Harry at arm's length, staring with astonishment at the many red, angry gashes covering Harry's upper body. The black haired man continued to sob and refused to look Draco in the eye. His whole body shook as the sobs wracked his slight frame. Draco touched each scar with the tips of his spindly fingers, and gasped when his fingers touched a rough scar, spelling out _let go_. "Harry, what does this mean?" he whispered, tracing over the harshly cut words again and again.   
"I don't know." Harry continued to sob, shaking and confused. "I can't remember."   
"Harry...how long?"   
"Please don't ask...I don't know. Help me, Draco. I don't know what to do. The nightmares...the screaming. I don't know what to do." Draco drew Harry to him, and clothed him with his arms.   
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly...all you life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise..." Draco half whispered and half sang one of Harry's favorite songs into his ear. Slowly, he rocked the crying man in his arms, them laid him down on the bed gently. Draco crawled in next to him, and Harry snuggled close to the only thing he felt like he could trust. 

* * * * * 

The next day, Harry awoke to bright sun shining on the insides of his eyelids. Glancing down he saw the countless scars covering his upper body, the red rippled sking puckered along the seam of the scars. But, he was in a state of blissful peace with Draco's arms wrapped arouind him. He sighed deeply and the slight movement awoke the blond haired man laying next to him. "Morning, sunshine," Harry used his standard morning greeting to rid the sleepy boredness from Draco's eyes.   
"Harry? You awake?"   
"Yep."   
"Harry, why do you do this to yourself?" Draco traced the scars on Harry's stomach, his fingers stopped when the came to the scar that said_ let go_. Over and voer he traced the words with his fingertips.   
"The nightmares..."   
"I love you Harry. Please don't do this to yourself. I'll hold you all night to keep them away. Please don't hurt yourself anymore."   
"Drake...I just can't help it. You help so much though. If I didn't have you...I wouldn't be here right now -"   
"Harry! Please don't say that."   
"It's true. So I thank you and I love you with all my heart."__

_That's right._

Harry sighed into Draco as he wrapped his arms around the light haired man, like night and day entwining together into dawn. 

* * * * * 

"So, guys, enlighten me. You, Asten, why can't we track down Death Eaters or our friend Voldemort with the normal scrying spells?" The class was used to his unorthodox way of using the Dark Lord's name.   
"Umm...I think...isn't it because that they -"   
"Define 'they' Asten."   
"The Death Eaters...The Death eaters have a spell thing that makes them invisible to normal tracking spells...I don't remember what it's called."   
"Ahh yes...the very same spell my own parents used. Do any of you remember how it works?" Paloma Longbottom's hand shot into the air, and Harry smiled inwardly at her resemblance to Hermione. "Yes, Miss Longbottom?"   
"Well, there is a secret keeper who knows the exact place where the person or people are hiding. No one can find them unless the secret keeper chooses to divulge the secret."   
"Correct. Couldn't have put it better myself. So now have you seen the reason why the ministry doesn't bother looking for single Death Eaters, only for the secret keeper?" There were scattered nods around the classroom. "But - there's always a 'but' isn't there? But, often the secret keeper is kept under a double whammy. Anyone know what that is? Yes, Sanders?"   
"Isn't it that the Death Eaters choose someone who isn't invloved in the Dark arts, put them under the Imerpius Curse so it could be anyone who knows where they are. But they might choose someone involved in the dark arts, or even a muggle."   
"Correct, Sanders. For homework, I want a two foot report on alternate methods to finding Death Eaters. Although I do want you to find facts, your own opinions are necessary too. See you guys later." Harry hopped off of his favorite perch - sitting crosslegged on top of his desk. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked up when he saw Dolan Sanders standing at his desk. "Yes, Sanders?"   
"Er, Professor Potter? I was wondering...what would you do if...umm...you liked this, er, girl. And you kinda sorta want to tell her -"   
"Dolan, if you want to tell Paloma that you like her you gotta tough it up, snatch her into a broom closet and plant a wet one right on her lips. Take it from me, girls love guys to make a strong move. Plus, I have a hunch Paloma won't mind. I can see her looking at you." Dolan didn't even ask how Harry knew it was Paloma. He just thanked his Professor, and grinned when he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the room.   
Harry chuckled as he sat down in the chair, slowly shaking his head back and forth. He was just pondering the innocence of youth when none other but his own Draco walked in. Harry pretended not to notice the man seated on his desk. He continued to grade Travis Wolfe's essay, his eyebrows knitted as he commented on Travis's idea about what boggarts looked like before they take their shapes. H chewed his lip in concentration and dipped his quill once more in the ink bottle. Before he could continue with grading, blond hair and grey eyes swam into view. Draco smirked at Harry as green eyes looked bemusedly down at him. "Hey, beautiful. How's my little Professor doing today?" Draco said cheerfully.   
"Hey babe...sorry didn't see you there." Harry forced his face to look believable and trustworthy.   
"Right. Yeah whatever. I'm fine, thanks ever so much for asking, Potter. Which one of your riff-raff parents taught you your manners?" Draco laughed to himself and plucked the quill from Harry's hand. He pulled Harry to his feet and pressed his forehead to Harry's. Before he could say anything, Harry leaned in, the desire was too strong, kissing him roughly. Just as the kiss deepened, the door was opened and closed. Neither Draco nor Harry noticed, but when the someone cleared her throat, they broke apart abrubtly, and without even a second thought, Harry commented offhandedly, "I wasn't kissing him. I was whispering in his mouth."   
"Harry, I grew up as a muggle too. I know who Chico Marx is." Hermione tried to act annoyed, but she still had to stifle her laughter as Draco turned bright pink and Harry repeatedly ran his fingers through his already rumpled hair. Harry looked like a deer in the headlights and Draco looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, excapt it wasn't in a cookie jar that his hand had been travelling.   
"Now I want to both of you to understand that no matter how much the urge overcomes you, you can't just snog whenever you want. We can't let the students, and we can't let you. Tell your horny emotions I said sorry in advance for next time." She couldn't control herself anymore, and burst into a fit of giggles.   
"My emotions are not horny, Granger. They are simply...intruiged...by the fine specimen who was whispering in my mouth. I urge you to get it right next time." Draco crossed his arms over his chest, feining indignace.   
"Right Malfoy. I'll try ever so hard. Now, I have something I wish to ask of you two. I was wondering if you wo, er, _love birds_ could help me with it." 


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, Ron! Welcome to our humble abode. Please feel free to voice and concerns or complaints at the front desk and we will see to it immediatly," Harry announced, showing Ron into the guest room of his house. Ron laughed and dropped his chest, broom and owl cage on the bed of the sunny room.   
"Right. I'm sure you care, Harry. You'd probably stop a leaky faucet with a wad of gum," teased Ron, smiling broadly.   
"What's wrong with that, may I ask?" Drawled Draco, leaning on the door frame, inspecting his immaculate fingernails. Ron just shook his head and flopped down on his back, carefully avoiding his broomstick.   
"Thanks for letting me stay, guys. With Seamus off abroad for a while, I decided that it'd be a good time to get the house redone before he gets back. Unless I want to sleep in the shed, I don't have a place to stay at the moment."   
"No problem, Ron. Anything for you guys." Harry stood to let Ron unpack his things, grabbed Draco's elbow and dragged him from the room. The trundled down the stairs and jogged into the kitchen to take the tea kettle off the heat. The steam was billowing out of the spout, and Harry eyed the peeling envelopes pinned on the cork board, damp from the steam. Draco poured two cups of tea and sat down at the small round dining table. He sat cross legged and slouched with his arms carelessly braced on the table. With a sigh, Harry sank into his chair, and grinned when he saw Draco's face. He had this look of utter disgust on his face, watching Harry sprinkle salt into his tea, along with a spoonful of honey. "Eww gross, Harry! Salt doesn't go in tea, you bloke," Draco said, wrinkling his nose in revoltion.   
"Hmm, well I seem to remember that a ceratin someone puts vinegar in his ice cream." Harry's eyes smirked over the edge of his tea mug.   
"Hey, it's good that way. Anyways...how's the teaching going?"   
"Pretty well, the kids this year are really smart, and they seem to like me well enough."   
"Who couldn't like you?"   
"Ahh Drake you're making me blush!" Harry grinned and pretended to look embarassed. Ron came into the kitchen, whistling to a made up tune and running his fingers through his hair, making it stand up crazily. He meticulously poured a tea cup with steaming water and dropped a tea strainer with tea leaves in it. He pulled open a drawer, took out a spoon, then closed it with his hip. When he sat down at the table, Harry turned to him with a grin, and asked, "So...how's the unpacking going?"   
"Okay, either I forgot one of my socks or it got lost somewhere."   
"Maybe it was so old it deisinigrated."   
"Stuff it, Malfoy." Ron and Draco laughed heartily, and Harry chuckled to himself, but he was confused. Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy had been viocious enemies, like a cat and dog, for so long. Now, they were laughing together like old friends. Ron wasn't the the of person to merely forgive and forget. He tended to hold grudges. And Draco, now there's a stubborn fellow. Before he and Harry got together, he would never been seen, let alone laugh with, Ron Weasley. 

F_orget it...they're friends now. No big deal. now laugh and look like you mean it._

And so, Harry began to really laugh, deep from his toes and spurting from his mouth like a happy water fountain full of pennies. 

* * * * * 

Late that night, after everyone had gone to sleep and the dirty dishes were still piled in the sink, Harry awoke with a start. He jumped, opened his eyes with a snap, and snatched his glasses off the bedside table. After jamming them onto his nose, he glanced down aat the warmth slung across his bare chest. Draco's arm was wrapped from behind him, and Harry's head was resting on Draco's stomach with his arm crooked next to his nose. He looked up at his angel's face, saw his head tilted to the side, and his eyelashes curled peacefully on his cheek. Harry could feel his own hair flutter ever so slightly as Draco exhaled out of pale lips. 

_Why did I wake up?_

_You were having a nightmare -_

_No I wasn't..._

_YES you WERE, remember?_

_I'm sorry, I just don't remember a nightmare._

_But there WAS one...now grieve properly, don't you recall that the Dark Lord murdered your parents?_

_Alright, alright. I'll get up._

Harry sadly disentangled himself from Draco's arms, seeing spots in front of his eyes. He did so gently and Draco remained asleep. Silently stumbling down the stairs, Harry absentmindedly ran his fingers over a scar on his arm. The dream was starting to come back to him now, it was still blurry, but it was almost the same as last time, green light, Voldemort's chilling and cold voice, his mother screaming. Harry was trying to figure out the blurry edges he couldn't remember when he found himself fumnbling in the kinfe drawer. How he had gotten into the kitchen, he didn't know. All he did know was that he found the perfect kinfe in the back of the drawer. It was long and thin, flexible and very sharp. He had cut himself many times by accident when slicing things; it was very easy to slip.   
Harry pondered on it for a moment, then decided a zigzag pattern would be an new change of pace. With an almost cheerful calm about him, Harry sliced a straight line from his wrist to the other side at the middle of his forearm. Slugishly, the blood dripped down the slit. The two pieces of skin were pushed apart as the wine tears pulsed out, several seconds apart. There goes another slice. Then another. Soon, Harry's arm, chest and hands were sticky with blood, and the floor had a small pool forming on the tile. Soon, Harry felt lightheaded, but enlightened because the emotional pain was gone, for now anyways. 

_Don't worry, you'll be fine._

Ironically, Harry collapsed on the tile, his head banging on the sharp corner of the drawer and more blood dripping from a cut on his temple. One of the lenses of his glasses shattered and Harry slumped on the floor, the knife still clenched in his fist. Blood coated his face, his chest was splotchy and his green plaid boxers had muddy brown spots from the blood soaking into the cloth. He was still bleeding from his arm, the drops sliding determindly down his arm. A large, sickly bruise was forming on his eye from where it had dug into the counter, and the same color was spreading across his knee from when it had made contact with the floor 

* * * * * 

Draco awoke to someone shaking his shoudlers violently. "Stop," he mumbled. "It's too early."   
"Draco! Get up you git! It's Harry!" Draco vaulted out of bed, not knowing what was wrong but suspecting the worst. Harry wasn't in bed anymore. His slippers were gone but his bathrobe was still on the hook on the door where he had left it. He slipped all the way down the wooden stair case, followed closely by Ron. He skidded to a halt in the kitchen, staring in horror at the battle field before his eyes. Within seconds he was on his knees next to Harry's bruised body. He cradled Harry's head in his lap, and a tear dripped onto Harry's red stained forehead, wetting the dried blood in a small puddle.   
Ron was standing at the sink, working as fast as he could, filling a bowl with warm water from his wand and dipping a washcloth in it. "Draco," Ron whispered, his hand gently on the pale man's shoulder. "Draco, we have to take him into the living room. Put him on the couch."   
Ron unclenched Harry's hand from the knife, set it on the table and rolled Harry softly onto his back. He inspected Harry for any broken bones while Draco sat there, his head in his hands, crying softly. Ron lifted up Harry's front half. "Drake, c'mon, help me. We need to get him to the couch. It's okay, Drake, help me...get his legs." Draco looked up with red puffy eyes and carefully picked up Harry's legs. They carried him to the sofa, gently laid him on the cushions an placed a pillow under his head. Ron went back into the kitchen and returned with the water and washcloth.   
Draco watched nervously as Ron sofly sponged Harry's forehead with the wet cloth. "Oh, Harry, why did you do this?" The red head kept whispereing. When Ron had wiped most of the dried blood from Harry's face, he touched the pale cheek with a fingertip. Harry's eyes were still closed, and the little blue veins were popping out from the skin. The large bruise on his eye was a sickly yellow and purple, like some twisted storm cloud. His pale lips were cracked and bleeding lethargically, and as his chest fluttered and he breathed out, the cracks re-opened.   
Ron continued cleaning off the blood from Harry's chest and arms, and when he finished, he sat back on his heels and looked at Harry's battered body. The scars were still there. The bruise on his knee was making Ron wonder if his friend's kneecap was broken or fractured. Being an Auror, he had to know basic methods of healing - magical and non magical. Harry was out like a light, and there was nothing he could do until Hary woke up.   
Ron put a quiet sleeping spell on Harry so he wouldn't wake up for a day or so. Draco's eyebrows were furrowed and Ron could just see the future worry lines on his forehead. "Relax, Drake. He'll be fine. He's lost a lot of blood, he's bruised, tired and needs rest. He won't wake up for a day or two. We have to let him heal himself form the inside. Relax, Malfoy." Draco still appeared worried, but he gave a small smile, and stopped gnawing on his fingernails. He scooted his chair next to Harry's side, and cupped his hand in his own. Both hands were cold as ice.   
"So, Ron, Harry never told me, but what is Seamus doing over in Ireland?"   
"Well, you know he is an Auror too, right?"   
"Yeah."   
"Well, since he was born there, he went to work with the Ministry Branch over there. He's doing mostly field work, you know, like tracking down suspercted secret keepers, raids, you know, the usual."   
"Where's he staying?"   
"With his brother in Dublin. Sean is the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts -"   
"Like your dad?"   
"Yeah, like Dad. So far, he hasn't had luck finding any Death Eaters. I dunno if I really want him to find any, I feel...scared...that I'm not there with him."   
"Aww relax, Weasely. Finnigan knows how to fight his battles. I still have that scar over my eye from when he punched me in our sixth year." 

* * * * * 

That night, Draco slept very badly. All night he tossed in his bed, his cold sweat soaking the pillow. He and Harry had slept together every night for so many years, that Draco couldn't get over not feeling the warmth breathing softly next to him. There was no one to hog the blankets or to make Draco wake up from an arm stretched across his chest. No one to fall asleep holding hands with, no one to spoon with on cold, snowy nights. And to top it all off, he was deathly afraid that Harry was going to die while he slept. Draco was going to wake up, and find Harry's body blue and cold on the couch, under layers of blankets. His emerald eyes would never open again and he would never take another breath.   
It was the middle of the night when Draco got out of bed, put on his bathrobe and slippers and padded his way down stairs. As he passed Ron's bedroom, he realized with a pang of anger that Ron was sleeping just fine while Harry was in his enchanted sleep. No movement came from Ron's bedroom, the lump on the bed was stock still. Draco let his fingers slide down the banister, slipping along the wood grain. He walked into the kitchen, to put the water kettle on, but realized that they must not have put it away, because the kettle was still slightly steaming on the table, with a clean cup. He pointed carelessly to the kettle with his wand and it began to boil again.   
Draco stumbled into the living room with his tea, and moved to sit down on the end of the couch by Harry's unmoving feet, to find someone was already there.   
"Ron, Ron, wake up." Draco tireldy shook Ron's shoudler. He was relieved to find that Ron wasn't really in his bedrooom, and was just as worried about Harry as he was. Ron's eyes lethargically opened, and he looked up at DRaco.   
"I knew you were gonna come down, that's why I left you a clean mug. I see you found it." Ron wiped his eyes with fist and rubbed the red mark out of his cheek where it had been pressed to his arm.   
"You couldn't sleep either?"   
"Nope." 

* * * * * 

When Harry awoke, the first thing he noticed was that he was sore all over. His hand was clentched around something, and when he looked down, al he saw before leaning back to rid his eyes of the black spots was Draco's fingers entwined with his. His head pounded furiously and the sun was slanting just right through the window as to hit him in the eyes. Ron was sitting at his feet and Draco was sitting on the floor, with his torso on the sofa, holding Harry's hands. Harry noticed that both of them were asleep and in their bathrobes, with a tipped over tea cup on the floor. There was a small stain on the rug form the spilled tea.   
Draco sat up, shaking his head to rid the sleepiness. When he saw Harry was awake, he smiled so broadly Harry could see his single filling in the back of his mouth. Slowly, carefully, Harry sat up on the couch. Draco hugged him and when he pulled away, he closed his eyes and sweetly kissed Harry. When he took his mouth away, tears were fighting to leak out of his still closed eyelids, and he whispered, "I'm so glad you're okay, Harry." When he opened his eyes, Harry expected to find silver eyes staring into his own, but was startled to find that was not the case.   
Draco's eyes were black. His once moon-like eyes had been burned as black as Harry's hair, a single shade of the darkest black, no pupil was visible. The soulful, loving eyes that Harry remembered now had a locked gate to them...Harry couldn't see what Draco was feeling, couldn't even begin to see what was going on behind those pools of ink. 


	4. Chapter 4

Harry blinked. Once, twice, three times. He peered into Draco's now puzzled eyes, thinking that maybe he was just seeing more black spots. "Draco, what -" 

_Shut up! Don't say anything._

_But his eyes..._

_What about them?_

_They aren't grey anym -_

_WHAT about them?_

_Er, they aren't supposed to be bla -_

_I SAID, WHAT about them?_

_Nothing._

"Harry? Were you going to say something?" Draco was confuesd about why Harry suddenly looked blissful, oblivious to him and had stopped in midsentance.   
"Hmm, I forgot. Oh well." Draco threw one suspicious glance over his shoulder when he turned to wake Ron. he shook the sleeping man's shoulders gently, and Ron's eyes fluttered open. He looked up at Draco, then at Harry.   
"Morning, all," he said, smiling. "I see I'm late as always. Glad to see you up, Harry."   
With a heavy hand, he patted Harry on the knee and stood up. He stretched his arms up over his head, his face contorting into unnatural shapes. Bouncing up on his toes, he almost touched the celiing fan ith his fingertips. Another dazzling smile and he left the room to go make some tea.   
Draco filled Ron's seat, took Harry's hand in his, and stared straight into Harry's eyes. His now black eyes probed Hary's mind, searched for what Harry was thinking. He reached up and touched the bruise, tracing over it with his thumb. "Harry, you almost died."   
"I had a nightmare."   
"why didn't you wake me up? I would much rather lose a night's sleep than lose you."   
"I dont know...I don't even really remember the nightmare. I never did. I just remember I had one, I think."   
"Harry -"   
"I know it doesn't make sense, don't bother telling me that. but I know I had one...yeah."   
"You can't do this to your beautiful self. I'll love you forever, but I don't want you ever, ever hating yourself."   
"I don't hate myself...at least I don't think I do. I don't really know why I do it, really. It's just, I need some relief from remembering that someone has been after my blood ever since I was born, and that they already got the only family I have."   
"I am your family. So is Ron and Hermione. An all the Weasleys, Seamus, Dean. You have family now. Voldemort is gone -"   
"You don't know that! He could be after me right now. For all I know, he could be the one making me cut myself." 

_Idiot, idiot, idiot. Now he's gonna go crazy. If you end up in the nut basket it's your own fault._

"Harry...what do I have to do to make you stop? I don't even want to think about what would have happened if Ron hadn't found you. What if you cut your wrists next time, or your throat, or stab your own stomach. You aren't yourself when you do this. You don't think...please, Harry, please. I can't take it much longer. Why can't you stop?"   
"Draco, you can't just decide to stop. It's like alcohol. It makes you feel better and like everything is gonna be okay. It has bad after effects, but the way it makes you feel is worth it. Not really, but my mind tells me it is."   
"It just makes me feel, I dunno, that I'm not making you happy. That I'm not doing something I should be doing. I love you, and you know that. But, you still," Draco swallowed, "you still cut yourself. What am I not doing right?"   
"Oh, Drake, it's not you. I love you, and like I've said before, without you I wouldn't be here. I'd have pointed my wand at myself and said "Avada Kadavra" five years ago when Sirius died if you weren't there. You've saved me so many times."   
"When Sirius died you were different. You had nightmares for months but you never cut yourself. Why do you do it now?"   
"I - I dont know." Harry's eyes were bright from the tears threatening to spill over, but he was trying not to cry. He didn't like to cry, it reminded him once again that he couldn't deal with things without getting emotional. He used to not ever cry and was indifferent to everything. Now, it was like his emotions were multipied tenfold. He shut his eyes and they fluttered ever so slightly as he forced back the tears. 

Draco wasn't so lucky. The tears were squeezing out of his eyes and he made no move to stop them. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, drew Harry to him and the two of them just sat like that, crying a little, sighing a little, and thinking a lot. 

* * * * * 

"Alright. The Imperius Curse. So, this semester, you have got to know every single insignificant way to tell if someone is under this curse. For one, it's illegal. Secondly, there's a good chance that if one is under the Imperius that they are involved in the Dark Arts - whether by choice or not. So, does anyone know a symptom?"   
One hand raised in the air. Harry smiled as he saw Dolan Sanders and Paloma Longbottom sitting together. Harry nodded to Jeremy Ticheli's hand and the tall boy lowered his arm.   
"One sympotom I think is that the cursed person can have, like, split personalities. You know, like one is nice and sweet and the other is, like, cynical and mean and stuff."   
"'And stuff' is right. There are other combinations. Happy, sad. Hot tempered, placid. Those types of things. Opposites. What else? Yes, Jasmine?"   
"Umm I think this might be kind of like the split personalities thing, but don't cursed people sometimes act sort of schitzophrenic?"   
"Ahh yes, for those of you who didn't grow up as a muggle, schitzophrenia is whe one seems to have imaginary friends. Hear voices that no one can hear. In fact, I thought I was beginning to be a schitzo in my second year when I heard voices in the walls. Turned out to a basilisk. But, anyway, they tend to talk to people that aren't there, do things that people who aren't there tell them to do. Of course, the latter is the basis of the Imperius Curse. But, since muggles don't know about the Imperius, they think the person is Schitzophrenic, so who ever the curser is is in no danger of being found out.   
"Now, there are physical symptoms too. Hey, Dolan, you know of any?" Dolan lowered his hand.   
"Umm...I think that sometimes, like, the person's skin color, hair color, eye color may change. But it's only little. Like someone with blonde hair will have their hair turn dirty blonde. Someone with dark skin might see their skin get darker. That kind of thing. It's never a big difference, though. The color won't change completely. Like green won't go to blue, pale won't go to dark, brown won't go to black."   
"You are correct, Dolan. Physical appearence may change. The older versions of the curse affecteed hair color very drastically. It turned blonde haired to brown haired in a day. But since the curse has evolved, the changes aren't usually detected. But, even the smallest difference matters. It's what we have to work with, so work with it we will.   
"Now, my friend Seamus Finnigan is an Auror. He's abroad right now, but he's coming home for a week in a few days. I've arranged for him to come in and talk to you guys. He's caputred many Death Eaters in the past few years, and many people think he might me the next Mad Eye Moody. Another of my friends, Ron Weasley, is coming in too. He is also an astonishingly good Auror. That probably comes from spending years keeping me from dying, so I guess it grows on you. For next class, since its a Hogsmeade weekend, there's no homework. But I want you to think about what you want to ask our guests. Wow them with your intelligence and curiosity. And Dolan, could you see me after class? Go on, get out of here." Dolan glanced at Paloma nerviously and she looked like she told his she would wait for him. She kissed his cheek and walked away. Dolan brought his bags to Harry's desk and looked up at his Professor scaredly.   
"So I see it worked with Paloma, eh?" Harry smiled and winked at Dolan. Who in turn took a deep, relieved breath and nodded. "Good. What did I tell you? See you next time." Dolan waved over his shoulder as he pushed the door open and met up with Paloma outside. The two walked away hand in hand.   
A few minutes later, Hermione knocked on the door. Harry waved for her to come in, and she walked in, with a somber look on her face. "Harry, I have a question for you. You don't have to answer it, but i would like it you would at least consider -"   
"Spit it out, Herms," Harry chuckled.   
"Well, I've been meaning to ask you for a while, ever since the gang went to dinner last week. I noticed something, but I didn't want to say anything. Harry, why are Draco's eyes black? It's...wierd, for lack of a better word. Did they just... change... one day? I've never seen, or even heard of that happening."   
"I don't know what you're talking about."   
"Oh, come on, Harry. If it's like a surprise then just tell me and I'll shut up, but, his eyes are black! They used to be gray! Don't tell me you haven't noticed? I thought gay guys were supposed to be more observant. I mean, it could've been the light or somehting, but really -"   
"Well, I still don't know what you are talking about. So what if I'm gay? Sounds like a stereotype to me."   
"No, no...I just meant..."   
"What did you mean?" Harry shook his head, and continued, "Sorry, Herms, I didn't get much sleep last night. I'm sorry if I snap at you."   
"It's okay, Harry. I don't know, just look at his eyes next time, see if their black. I might be going crazy, but..."   
"I'll do it. I've just been so busy, I have so much to do."   
"Alright, bye Harry." Hermione pulled Harry into a hug and planted a sisterly kiss on his cheek. She smiled at him and walked out of the room.   
Harry sat own with a sigh, pulled open a drawer and took out a stack of papers. He leaned his chair back against the wall, crossed his legs, balanced an ink bottle on his knee and began reading. As he softly traced the tip of the feather quill over his face, he read Ranae Middleton's homework. After a few minutes, he felt his head pounding and his attention wandering. Were Draco's eyes black? Harry seemed to remember something different about them, but... 

_There's nothing wrong, you're imagining it. Now stuff it and keep grading. We wouldn't want people to notcie what's going on, now would we?_

And he wished that annoying voice would go away. 

_No, I won't keep grading._

Although he tried to fight it, his hand dipped the quill into the ink. 

_Keep grading. Keep grading. Keep grading._

_NO!_

The ink bottle was now smashed on the flagstones, crimson ink pooling into the crevices. Against his own will, he opened the drawer to get another bottle. But before he could, Harry stood up and all the papers fluttered to the ground, soaking in the pile of ink or just drifting around in eddies of air. Harry snapped his quill in half and threw it on the ground. It was all making sense now. 

_Now look what you've done. Tsk, tsk. We'll have to fix that._

The pain engulfed Harry's body. He bent double, clutching his stomach, heaving dry heaves and staggering over the floor. He slipped in the ink and curled on the ground, the pain was in every part of his body. Harry cried out, and it stopped. Even the tips of hie eyelashes ached and he sat up, panting heavily. 

_Are you giong to stop this foolishness now?_

_No! Leave me alone! I won't stop! I know what you're doing!_

Harry gripped his hair in his hands, sitting on the ground a few feet away from the ink pool. He clawed at his face, trying to get the voice to go away and let him be. 

_Haven't you learned by now, I always win?_

Draco burst in, staring at Harry. "Harry, what...what...I came down here, I don't know why. I just felt lie soemthing was wrong. I guess it was a premonition...but I'm glad I did. What's wrong? Why is there ink all over hte floor? Harry?" Drao knelt down next to Harry and grabbed his hands. He pulled Harry to his feet, and hugged him. They rocked back and forth, Harry was silent - not crying, or talking...barely breathing.   
"Draco, help me.. I'm under the Imp-"   


_No, don't say it! Here, if you don't care about pain on yourself, lets try something else -_

  
Draco abrubtly let go of Harry, collapsed on the floor and screamed at the top of his lungs, pleading for the hurt to go away. A gash opened by itself on his neck and gushed blood on the tile. He shreiked again and Harry feel to his knees, plugging up Draco's artery with his hand with blood pulsing out of the pale skin. As quickly as it began, Draco stopped writhing, the gash closed, and they just lay there, panting. Draco gasped and whispered, "Harry, what's going on?"   
"I don't know -"   
"Yes you do...you were going to tell me something."   
Harry racked his brain. 

_Don't tell him. DO you want him to scream like that again?_

_No...but leave me alone! I'm going to tell him! You can't stop me from telling him..._

" IthinkI'mundertheImperiusCurse -" Harry said extremely fast, with a look of intense suffering on his face. His insides were squirming, his muscles were knotting up. Very slowly, his body was twisting in pain. There was a flash of green light and Harry screamed with anguish, writhing on the floor, kicking out crazily and clutching at the air. But it was weaker this time. Minutes like hours passed and the pain didn't stop, but every second it got weaker and weaker as Harry fought and fought. Soon, the searing angiush was a dull ache, and the pain didn't come back. Now Harry felt fuller, like he could decide what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it. And, Harry knew that the curser couldn't take away what he had told Draco. 

* * * * * 

Scarcely an hour later, they had taken showers at home, the blood and ink was gone from their bodies and their clothes were drying in the spring afternoon on a clothesline. Neither remembered anything. Harry was just taking the afternoon off to spend time with his lover at home.   
Harry was sitting in bed, knees propped up, laughing as Draco walked in, tripped over a shoe and tumbled into bed. They laughed for a minute, then Draco showed Harry what he was holding. It was his shirt, freshly dry form the sun and wind. "Feel it, Harry. It's so soft. We should dry our clothes outside more often." Harry rubbed the shirt against his face and murmured agreement. His eyes were focused downwards, and when he looked up, Draco was staring out the window. Harry tilted Draco's face towards his with a gentle finger and leaned in to kiss him. He felt Draco's soft lips welcoming Harry in for more. A splendid afternoon, both would have agreed.   
Harry slipped off Draco's shirt, not paying attnetion to keeping the blonde's hair at all neat. Then came fingers fumbling with the button and zipper on Harry's pants. As quickly as possible, Harry broke the kiss enough to wriggle out of his khakis and kick them off the bed.   
But Draco was insatiable. And Harry was just not going fast enough. Ripping noises tore through the air as Draco grabbed the two sides of Harry's button up shirt and ripped it away from Harry's chest. The buttons pinged on the floor and the ruined shirt was tossed over the lamp. "That was my favorite shirt, Draco," Harry whispered, then biting Draco's ear lobe.   
"Harry you know how I get, especially when you do that," Draco's whispers were strangled.   
"What? This?" Harry sucked on Draco's earlobe and blew warm air in his ear. Draco moaned loudly in response. "Oh, that. Mmm, well, what do I care how you get?" Draco growled deep in his throat, flipped Harry onto his back and pounced on top of him. In minutes he had Harry writhing with desire and lust, while his slender hands continued to busy themselves.   
A loud sound erupted for Harry's throat, a cross between a yell and a groan. Now, just like Draco, he couldn't take this small stuff anymore. It was torture.   
"Drake, oh God, Draco! Stop teasing me! I can't take it!"   
"Oh, Harry...you want it?"   
"Yes...yes! Yes you bitch...I'm going mad over here!" Harry pushed Draco off of him, ripped of the covers from the bed...along with their boxers. He slapped Draco acros the face in a fit of passion, and when Draco kissed him, Harry felt a sharp pain and salty, corrosive blood flowing over his teeth. Draco had bit through the tip of his tongue. Harry pushed Draco away and punched him. He ravaged Draco again, but his arm was on its way to punch him again when he froze. He looked at the purple tinge on Draco's cheek bone, his tearing eyes and the look of anguish in them and then at his own fist. He jumped off on Draco's stomach and ran into the bathroom, where he slammed the door and locked it. He wiped some of the blood from his chin with the back of his hand and rinsed his face at the sink. "I don't really love him, do I?" Harry whispered.   



End file.
